


from experience

by sarcasticfishes



Series: before & after [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, M/M, Parallels, Past, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 00:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2208786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticfishes/pseuds/sarcasticfishes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John saw a lot of Claudia in Stiles, in the slow, sarcastic arch of his eyebrow, the way he laughed with his entire body, his babbling. John saw a lot of <i>himself</i> in Stiles, but in Derek too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	from experience

**Author's Note:**

> I've started adding rough dates in at the beginning of each section; while this series is of the non-linear fashion, it's still got a timeline, and you can check out the ages of the people in this fic [here](http://unfortunatelyderek.tumblr.com/post/95366098190/so-a-couple-of-weeks-ago-i-sat-down-to-plot-out) :)

**[ 1 9 8 6 // A u g u s t ]**

It was the hottest summer in as long as Claudia could remember, when she took a trip down to the Hales’ lake house.

“This is freakin awesome,” she murmured, slowing the Jeep to halt in the driveway of the house, staring up at the stately home. Talia slid gracefully out of the passenger seat onto the tarmac, and Claudia fumbled her way out of the driver’s side, coming around to meet her at the back. Beacon Lake before them was wide and flat and bright blue under the clear sky. It was breath taking, and apparently an expensive place to own property.

“It is,” Talia agreed, leaning against the back of the Jeep, “I’m surprised mother trusted me enough with the keys. This place is expensive. See over there is Lorraine Martin’s house. Over there belongs to the Tates.” Talia pointed out across the late to where other houses were nestled against the shore.

“Bet this place is amazing on full moon,” Claudia mused, a hint of awe to her voice. Talia huffed out a laugh and shrugged her rucksack off of one shoulder to get the keys to the house out.

“It’s alright,” she said, her smile edging in on her voice. When she looked back, her eyes flashed gold, and Claudia was still standing halfway down the driveway, grinning up at her.

“Werewolves,” she beamed.

“Wow, Pods. You’ve had a whole week to mull that one over, haven’t you.”

“Shut up. _Werewolves_.”

“I’m never getting a real conversation out of you ever again, am I?”

Claudia shook her head, trying to hide her grin as another car came into view on the road up to the lake house. She jogged up to join Talia on the top step.

“Last chance to back out, Hale,” she grinned, “Sure you wanna spend your weekend with a bunch of highschoolers?”

Talia shrugged a shoulder.

“You guys deserve some fun. And it’s nice to get away from the kids for a night, even if that means being your chaperone.”

The car coming up the drive parked up next to the Jeep, and a pretty blonde stepped out, followed by two brunettes. Just the first of many people to arrive.

Claudia, grinning, turned to face Talia, “Really though, thank you, Talia.”

“Happy birthday, Pods. May your sixteenth be _the sweetest_.”

~

The complaint of a raucous house party brought John fairly far out of the Hills and into the lake district. He really wasn’t looking forward to breaking up some rich kid’s weekend boozer, and his shift was nearly up. The call, however– didn’t turn out to be quite what he’d been expecting.

First of all, the house seemed far enough across the lake that he didn’t think anyone would be disturbed by the music. Secondly, the entire party seemed surprisingly contained. And thirdly, Talia Hale was waiting for him on the front porch.

“Deputy,” she said brightly, “To what do I owe the pleasure.”

John narrowed his eyes, lifted his head up to regard Talia. For such a young woman, she was very regal. John knew the Hales to be a matriarchal kind of family, knew that Talia’s husband had taken her name when they married. He respected her very much, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t wary of her occasionally, and it definitely didn’t mean he was adverse to a little banter.

“Heard there was a party,” he said, eyeing the house and then returning his gaze to hers. “But I wasn’t expecting you.”

Suddenly, a girl burst forth from the front door and, oh, _there’s_ a face John could never forget.

“Tali-” Claudia Podolzky, laughing as she made a beeline towards Talia, almost tripped over her own feet upon catching sight of John, “-oh god.”

“Claudia,” he said, lifting an eyebrow in surprise, and the girl suddenly blushed right to her roots.

“Deputy,” she said evenly, whilst levelling Talia with a manic glare, “good evening.”

The pieces slotted somewhat into place. There were still some parts missing (why he’d been called out to such a quiet party, why Talia was smirking at him like that), but he figured he knew at least a fraction of the story. Enough to continue on.

“This your party?” he asked.

“Birthday,” Claudia gritted out, still scowling at Talia, “My sixteenth.”

“I figure you can handle this yourself, Pods?” Talia asked, not even waiting for a response before she ducked back into the party. Claudia seemed shell-shocked, fixated on the empty space of porch deck that her friend had vacated, her face pale as she finally managed to look up and meet John’s eye.

Her eyes weren’t quite brown, he noticed, but more _amber_ in the evening light.

“Happy birthday,” he said, softly, taking a step towards her, and almost as if she were a magnet, she moved in too, tentatively moving down a step.

“Thank you… Deputy,” she said, still looking quite shocked. The expression was familiar, he’d seen it before, the first time she was brought in to the station by Deputy Waters, but instead of a tired, tear streaked complexion, Claudia watched him with bright, long lashed eyes, more put together than he’d seen her before. She didn’t look like a hurting little girl, but more like a confident young woman.

“Uh,” John checked his watch; eleven thirty-six. “Just John now, if you like. I’m off the clock.”

She nodded spasmodically, eyes seeming to soften even as she looked at him. “John,” she said, gently, like she was testing the name out.

“I got a complaint about your party,” he said, seeing her stiffen for a moment, “Now that I’m here, I’m not sure why. Everything seems to be under control. I don’t need to perform an alcohol check, do I?”

“Oh, uh, no,” Claudia flushed even darker, shaking her head, “No. I mean, one of the girls _jokingly_ got me a flask as a present but it’s empty, I swear. Uh. I don’t drink. I’m not legal to do that. And of course you know that, you’re a cop, I don’t know why I’m telling you. I’ll just stop talking now.”

John pressed his lips together in an effort not to laugh.

“Nice. Sixteen, huh? Does that mean I’m gonna see you cruising around town in your mom’s Volvo?”

 The grin that slowly came across Claudia’s face at the question was almost predatory. He couldn’t explain it, the sharp edges of excitement that suddenly became visible.

“Let me show you my new set of wheels.”

She bounded down off the porch, grasping the sleeve of John’s jacket and tugging him towards a the line of cars parked out front. Once he realised she was dragging him towards the baby blue Jeep, it was hard to hold in his laughter.

“Don’t _laugh_! He’s my baby.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just having trouble imagining you driving this beast.”

“Gorgeous, isn’t he? A CJ, like me,” she said, absently stroking the wheel arch.

“You’re a Civilian Jeep?” John asked, confused.

“Claudia Jane,” she said, rolling her eyes spectacularly, “ _Civilian Jeep_. Jesus Christ, Stilinski.”

John barked out another laugh, resting against the side of the jeep.

“You know what, I take it back. This is perfect for you,” he said, shaking his head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Claudia teased, leaning up against the door of the Jeep next to him.

“Just saying, big blue Jeep? You’re certainly making a statement. A loud one.”

Claudia, seemingly rendered speechless, just beamed at him, pushing herself away from the Jeep.

“I called him Roscoe. After my dumb dog,” she added, turning to make her way back to the house, and John too started to meander back.

“Rest in Peace,” he said, and she laughed quietly, sitting down on the porch step. Without even thinking about it, he sat down next to her.

“Yeah. Dad asked me if I wanted another dog. But I don’t think I’ll ever want a dog ever again. Nothing will ever beat Roscoe. He was the best.”

“And you’ve got friends now,” John added, gesturing towards the house behind them, the sounds of the party, chatter and music, floating out in the silence.

“That I do,” she nodded curtly. “Thank you for not ratting me out that night, John, it was extremely decent of you. I was a mess… and making things explode in a playground. Which is really stupid now that I think of it. I don’t do that anymore, by the way. Blow things up. I mean. Explode things.”

“We all have our vices,” John shrugged, “And we all deserve a chance. Just promise me you’ll stay out of trouble. I don’t want to see you in that station again.”

Claudia scoffed, “I’ll try.”

“Try hard.”

“Fine, whatever. I’ll avoid getting arrested again.”

“I said _stay out of trouble_ , not _don’t get arrested_.”

“Potayto, potahto.”

John huffed out a laugh again as he stood, dusting his pants off and thinking if he could just keep her out of trouble that he might call it the accomplishment of a lifetime. Thinking how he wanted to keep this sweet, sharp young lady _safe_ , more than anything else.

“I better go. Happy birthday… CJ.”

Claudia’s head snapped up, and slowly her mouth curved into a grin, this time not even a hint of unruliness to be found. Genuine. Delighted.

“Thank you, John,” she said, winking for emphasis.

He turned to leave before she could see him blush.

 

**[ 2 0 1 2 // N o v e m b e r ]**

John saw a lot of Claudia in Stiles, in the slow, sarcastic arch of his eyebrow, the way he laughed with his entire body, his babbling. John saw a lot of _himself_ in Stiles, but in Derek too.

He stopped to watch them in the kitchen, hunched over a map on the dining table, didn’t miss the way Derek’s hand drifted down Stiles’ back, and then jerked away sharply, like he’d forgotten himself and touched when he wasn’t supposed to.

Stiles made a wide sweeping arch with a highlighter across the map, as Derek leaned to survey it. Stiles’ palm held one side of the map down to prevent it from rolling up, while Derek held the other side down and watched Stiles making marks across the paper. John cleared his throat to draw their attention..

“Find anything yet?” he asked.

“The points are linear, some intersect,” Stiles muttered, more to the map than to his father, “Kind of like the sacrifices last year, telluric currents, kind of like that. But this is more of a pattern than a current, more of a grid, it’s predictable.” Stiles wheeled around, the end of his highlighter pressed to his bottom lip. It’s so very Claudia, it almost hurts more than it soothes.

“We can probably predict location of the next attack,” Derek affirmed.

“Is anyone else having mid 2011 flashbacks?” Stiles wrinkled his nose and turned back to the map, “Looks like the next attack should happen near the intersection at Queen and North. You might wanna set up a watch there or send a squad car down there. Not Parrish, though, we need him.”

“I’m on it,” John said, phone in hand.

“Derek, I need both hands to use the compass, can you make sure the map doesn’t roll up,” Stiles muttered, making a strange squeaking noise as Derek smoothed his palm down over the other side of the map, trapping Stiles between the table and his body.

“Oh-kay, Stiles muttered, fumbling with the wheel of the mechanical compass, “This is. Okay.”

John, pretty sure his eyebrows has disappeared into his hairline (quite a feat), quickly backed out of the kitchen; probably a second too late considering his peripheral vision picked up the way Stiles seemed to mould into the shape of Derek’s body as he stretched out over the map. And that was really not something a father needed to see.

But then again, the proximity at which Stiles and Derek worked didn’t surprise him at all.

(In the kitchen, Derek was sure he was blushing from the roots of his hair down, and did not appreciate Stiles’ self-satisfied chuckling.

“I would have got in your way if I didn’t get behind you,” Derek muttered.

“Sure thing, big guy.”

“Stiles.”

“No, it’ okay, I’m somewhat agreeing with you. You would have gotten in my way if you stayed beside me. I mean, you could have also held the map down from the other side of the table, but this is good.”)

John made the call to send a car down to the area of town Stiles had predicted, and returned to the kitchen to see Stiles exiting with an armful of maps and his phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, and a wary looking Derek seated at the table. John set his phone down on the table and sighed.

“You’re… you’re how old now, Derek?” he asked, and Derek’s head jerked up like he’d been stung.

“Twenty-six, Sheriff.”

“And you know Stiles is just seventeen, right?”

Derek cleared this throat nervously, the tips of his fingers pressed against the edge of the table.

“Yea- Yes. I’m very aware. I know that’s- we’re _not-_ we’re not. He's with Malia.”

Even with his experience with working with Derek in the past being as extensive as it was, John had never seen Derek so uncharacteristically flustered.

“Derek, what _are_ you doing with my son, then?”

There was a beat of silence between them, filled only by the sound of Stiles’ footsteps above, pacing, probably on the phone to Scott. Derek closed his eyes tight for a second, one of his fists clenching before he opened his eyes again and said;

“Keeping him safe, sir.”

John waited for him to say something else, but it seemed Derek was finished, and so was John. He nodded his head curtly.

“Keep it up, Hale.”

Derek nodded jerkily, watching as John stood up and grabbed his jacket.

“I’m going to head down to the station, for my shift. Don’t let Stiles stay up too late. You know how he gets.”

“I do,” Derek agreed softly, “I won’t.”

And with that, John picked up his keys and left a very bewildered looking Derek at the kitchen table, feeling that his son was in the best possible hands.

He knew from experience.


End file.
